


let's call the whole thing off

by Hollyhockgirl



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Annoyances to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, between two idiots, with just a dash of angst for flavor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyhockgirl/pseuds/Hollyhockgirl
Summary: The first time Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier met they hated each other. The second time they met they didn't even remember each other. The third time they met they became friends. They were friends for a long time.





	let's call the whole thing off

May 1998  
University of Maine  
Orono, Maine 

 

In Eddie Kaspbrak’s opinion, the worst week on the calendar was the one right before finals began at the University of Maine. Looking back, Eddie knew he was right to hold this one in particular revulsion, which was a shame because it was the last one before he graduated. It started to go downhill innocuously enough when he was met by Bill Denbrough outside of Eddie’s math class. The two friends walked down the hall and made small talk. Finally, Bill cut to the chase and got into what he came for. 

“H-h-h-hey,”started Bill, “Y-uh-you’re moving to New York City a-after graduation, right?” 

“That’s right,” Eddie confirmed.  


“Guh-g-great. I have a-a-a friend who’s moving to New York City too. I-I-I-I-It turns out he needs a-a ride. Wuh-wuh-would you…be able to give him one?” 

Eddie was unsure and hesitated, but after a second answered affirmatively. Of course Bill’s friend could hitch a ride. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. You know that, Bill.” 

 

At eight forty-five the morning after graduation, Eddie had been waiting outside of Chapman Hall in his white Volkswagen Cabriolet for almost an hour. Through Bill, Richie Tozier, his friend, had said that he would be ready at eight AM. Not wanting to inconvenience or make Richie wait, Eddie had pulled up outside of the dorms at seven fifty-five. Eddie had slept horribly the night before, wired from the anxiety over the move. He had slept through his six-thirty alarm and awoken at seven-fifteen. He had barely had time to do his morning ablutions and pull on a navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. In the fifty minutes since no one had come in or out of Chapman Hall. 

His patience had left a long time ago and Eddie decided that if Richie was not out in five minutes he would leave. At the moment he made that resolution, the door to the hall flung open and a gangly young man with horn-rimmed glasses that had adhesive tape over the bridge, and wearing a green long-sleeved jersey shirt and faded jeans. His curly black hair was thick and messy. A lumpy backpack was slung over his shoulders and he was carrying two boxes that were so tall he could barely see over them. The contents clattered and clanked around in them.  
The black-haired young man set the boxes in front of car and tapped his fist on the door. Eddie cranked the window down. 

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” The black-haired young man asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Richie Tozier,” Richie introduced himself with a friendly smile. He reached through the window and shook Eddie’s hand. 

“The trunk’s open. You can put your things back there,” Eddie said briskly. The nerve of this man being almost an hour late and not even apologizing, not even acknowledging the inconvenience. Eddie tried to be polite, but inside he was fuming. 

Richie dropped his boxes on top of Eddie’s belongings in the trunk and after making his way to the front, flung himself onto the passenger seat, his backpack propped at his feet. 

“Let’s get this show on the road, Eds,” said Richie, clapping his hands together. 

“Please, don’t call me that. My name is Eddie,” he grumbled. 

Richie shrugged as Eddie turned the ignition and began to drive. Unlike Lot’s Wife neither of them looked back. Their heads were too filled with their dreams for a future in New York City. 

After a moment of silence, Eddie began to speak. “It’s four hundred and forty-nine point seven miles to New York City. That’s a nine hour drive with a forty minute stop for dinner. I think its best to break it up into two shifts of four hours and I’ll drive an extra twenty minutes or so. Does that work?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Richie answered as he propped his feet up on the dashboard. 

What are you doing?” exclaimed Eddie. “Don’t do that. Get your feet down. Do you know dangerous that is? If we have a head-on collision your pelvis would be crushed. There’s no way around that. Do you know what that’s like? Do you know how much that fucking hurts?” 

Richie stared at Eddie as though he had suddenly grown two heads, but put his feet down. He pulled a bag of grapes out of his back pack and held it out to Eddie. 

“Do you want any?” 

“No, thank you.” 

“Suit yourself,” Richie shrugged and popped one in his mouth. He chewed on the grape for a moment before turning to spit the seed out of the window. Which he forgot to roll down. 

Eddie gasped and glared at Richie, who returned it with a sheepish look. 

“I’ll roll down the window.” 

“Thank you,” Eddie said, seething. A million rude and vulgar things he would like to say to Richie flew through his mind. His tongue throbbed from all of the biting down he had done on it. 

Richie rolled down the window and continued to munch on his grapes. The two lapsed into silence that continued for several minutes. The only sound was the hum of the car engine. Eddie was extremely grateful for the reprieve while Richie cursed every second and searched for something to break up his boredom. He finally broke the silence with a question.

“So, should we tell each other our life stories?” 

“What? No.” exclaimed Eddie. 

“Why? Do you have a tragic past that gives you flashbacks if you talk about it? Do you have a super dark secret that would ruin your reputation if anyone found out?” Richie spoke quickly, and turned in the seat with a look on his face as though he was actually interested in the answer. 

“No, it’s none of that. It’s just none of your fucking business. I just met you.” Eddie said. 

“No, you don’t seem like the type with a dark side. You probably dot your i’s with little hearts and shit.” 

“What, and you have a dark side? Having a Pulp Fiction poster on your wall doesn’t count.” 

“You’re right, that’s not a dark side. When I get a new book I read the last page first so I know how it ends in case I die before I finish it. Whenever I get money I put some away in a safety deposit box that I hid in the wall behind the Pulp Fiction poster in my dorm. That, my friend, is a fucking dark side,” Richie asserted, a smug, self-righteous smirk on his face. 

“That doesn’t mean that you have a dark side, that just means… I don’t know what it means, but not that you have a dark side. It also doesn’t mean that you’re a deeper or more enlightened person,” countered Eddie. 

“Do you think about death?” 

“What- Yeah, I guess sometimes.” 

“ You know, I grew up with Bill. Bill had a younger brother named Georgie who was murdered when we were twelve, “ Richie began. Eddie nodded. A year into their friendship Bill told Eddie the story. “I remember the night after the funeral I woke up crying, just straight up fucking bawling. It hit me, people die. I kept thinking, ‘I could die, I’m going to fucking die’ and the thought would not leave my brain. Ever since then, I spend hours- days, trying to not think about death, trying to distract myself from the idea that one day all I’m going to do is lie beneath the ground in a wooden box.” 

Throughout the speech, Eddie’s face slowly fell. He was a silent for a moment, before clearing his throat and then quietly speaking. “When you’re in New York I think you should go to law school. “ 

“Why do you think that?” Richie questioned, perplexedly. 

Eddie shrugged. “Well, I think you should be a lawyer. The kind that does wills. You’re very good at reminding people that they’re going to die.”

“Actually, I’m going to be a comedian,”corrected Richie, a prickly undercurrent to his voice.

“No offense, but it helps if you’re funny to be a comedian.” Eddie said, with a dry snort. 

Richie burst out laughing, “Ha ha, Eddie Kaspbrak gets off a good one. Nice. I do impressions,” he explained, smiling broadly, his chest puffed out with pride. “ In my quest to not think about death as a youth I taught myself how to do impressions. I’m going to be on ‘Saturday Night Live.’” 

“Do one. Do an impression right now. ” 

Richie thought for a moment, before shrugging, ‘Okay. Guess who this is.” He shoved a handful of grapes in his mouth and pushed them to the sides so they puffed out his cheeks. Richie began to do an impression of Marlon Brando, “ ‘ Michael, I never wanted this for you. I always thought that you would be the one to hold the strings. Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone…’” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Every one can do Brando.” 

Richie continued on, undeterred, “Yeah, but not as chuckalicious as mine. Here, here, here, when James Caan gets killed, when he looks at Sonny’s body.” Richie twisted his face in a grotesque approximation of crying, his lips stretched out comically wide, and his eyes shut, “‘My boy, look at what they did to my boy,’” 

In spite of himself Eddie chuckled. As he drove, Richie continued to do impressions. He did Al Pacino, Christopher Walken, James Mason, Harvey Fierstein, Vincent Price, Jeff Goldblum and Howard Cosell. His impression of Vincent Price was almost spot-on and his Al Pacino was very good, but the others were rather pedestrian. Despite that there was something earnest and charming about Richie’s delivery and Eddie genuinely laughed at all of them. This lead to a discussion about movies. 

“It always bums me out that Ingrid Bergman leaves with Paul Henreid at the end,” Richie confessed. 

“What? It makes complete sense to me.” 

“The only way I can understand it is if Humphrey Bogart doesn’t want her to stay.” 

“I don’t think she wants to stay.” Eddie countered. 

Richie was indignant, “Of course she wants to stay, wouldn’t you want to stay with Humphrey Bogart over the other dude?” 

Eddie shook his head, “ Nope.” 

“What? You’re fucking crazy.” 

“Stuck in Casablanca married to a man who runs a bar? I’m practical and that does not sound like the kind of life I want.” 

“You would rather be stuck in a passionless marriage…” 

“Are you kidding me? I don’t think it’s passionless,” Eddie defended, as he maneuvered the car off the highway and into the parking lot of a roadside diner. “You remember her face when he’s leading the bar in the song and stickin’ it to the Nazi’s? She was giving him some serious goo goo eyes. She’s in love with him. That’s why she’s so torn.” 

Eddie parked and turned the ignition off. 

Richie spoke as he undid his seat belt. “Okay, okay, but she has the greatest sex of her life with Humphrey Bogart. It’s Humphrey fucking Bogart and you’re going to turn him down just because he owns a- oh I get it!” 

“What?” Eddie inquired. 

The two men got out of the car and began to walk up to the diner. 

“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” Richie said, shaking his head. 

“No. What do you mean?” Eddie demanded, as he held open the diner door and Richie walked through.

The diner was small and rather dingy, but had a certain tacky charm. Sentimental doo-wop songs played from a jukebox in the corner. The floor was a checkerboard and looked as though it was swept nightly but hadn’t been mopped in years. All of the tabletops were made out of a cheap chrome. Tables were spread out around the floor and then booths lined the walls. It was rather full for three o’clock in the afternoon Richie and Eddie were met by a hostess at the front who led them to a corner booth. She handed them menus and assured them that a waitress would be by shortly before leaving.

“It’s pretty obvious that you’ve never had good sex,” Richie said, as he sat down. 

Eddie’s face turned a salmon pink. “Yes, I have,” he hissed. 

Richie shook his head. “No, you haven’t.” 

“It just so happens that I have had plenty of good sex,” Eddie said defensively. 

“How many people have you slept with?” 

“I am not going to tell you that.” Eddie snapped, repulsed by the very idea. 

“All right,” Richie said simply, and pretended to read his menu. 

Eddie glared at him for a moment before blurting out, “Two. One girl and one boy.” 

“Oh, I’m bisexual too.” Richie revealed, a bright smile on his face.

Eddie blushed and looked down at the table, unable to make eye contact with him. “No, uhm…I’m not… I’m gay. It’s sort of…how I figured out I was gay. I mean, I sort of suspected for a long time beforehand, but when you don’t want Myra Huggins to touch you, you really don’t her to touch you during sex. To calm down and actually have anything happen I had to think about a guy. I began to think about River Phoenix actually.” 

“ 'My Private Idaho’?” inquired Richie. 

Eddie chuckled, “ ‘Running on Empty’ if I’m remembering correctly. That’s when I knew, I just knew, I’m not straight, I’m not bisexual, I’m gay. I had this huge revelation with my hands on Myra Huggins breasts and she’s offering to go down on me. I knew I had to get away, to at least think about this, figure it out, so all of a sudden I just fucking yell out, ‘Myra, I’m gay’ And then I pushed her off and ran right out of the room. We were at my house so that made it a little awkward.” 

“Wowza, that’s hilarious,” Richie laughed. 

“Not at the time. I was shitting myself with embarrassment.” 

“Who’s the one guy you’ve had great sex with?” 

Eddie’s blush continued, but he willed himself to look Richie in the eye as he answered,“Donald Avery.” 

“No you didn’t.”

“I did so,” Eddie retorted. 

“No, if you need your taxes done ask Donald. If you need a root canal Donald’s your main man, but humping and pumping is not Donald’s strong suit. ‘Do it to me, Donald.’ ‘Faster, Donald’ ‘Touch me there, Donald.’ It just doesn’t work.” Richie said in an ‘I-know-something-you-don’t’ manner.

“Shut up, Richie. Will you just shut up? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

Eddie put up his menu so that he wouldn’t have to look at his table mate. The uncomfortable silence lasted for several minutes until the perky, blonde waitress came over. 

“Hi, my name is Kristy. Can I take your order?” 

“Yeah, hi. Can I get the bacon cheeseburger and a coke?” Richie ordered. 

“What kind of bun would you like?” 

“Surprise me,” Richie shrugged. 

“Coming right up,” Kristy smiled and turned to Eddie. ‘What can I do for you?” 

“Yes, I would like a slice of Apple Pie please,” Eddie continued in a precise and almost pedantic voice.” But I would like the pie heated and I don’t want the Ice Cream on top, I’d like it on the side. Would you like me to go slower? And can I do strawberry instead of Vanilla? If not, then no Ice cream, please, just whipped cream, but only real whipped cream. If it’s canned then I don’t want anything.” 

Kristy stood for a moment catching up on writing the instructions, before smiling at the two men and leaving. Richie was again looking at Eddie as though he had two heads. 

“What?” Eddie asked, when he noticed the look. 

“Nothing,” Richie said and shook himself out of it. 

Eddie returned to the earlier conversation. “Donald is a really important person to me. He was my first boyfriend. He supported me when I was coming out and-and-and I really cared about him. Besides, sex isn’t all about technique. It’s about the love you have for the other person and connecting with him. So if you’re in love with the person whether the sex is technically good or bad is a moot point because it’s going to a special experience either way.”

Richie stared at him for a moment as though Eddie was trying to convince him that the moon was made of cheese. He decided not to press the issue and instead shrugged listlessly. “If you say so.” 

“How many people have you slept with?” Eddie asked in a challenging voice. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

Richie twisted his face into an exaggerated frown and repeated that he didn’t know. 

“Is it between one and ten? Or ten and a hundred?” Eddie questioned. 

“Yes,” Richie answered. 

An uncomfortable, heavy silence fell on the table. Eddie gawked at Richie trying to figure out what that meant and how to react to it. Richie, as casual as could be, bounced his leg up and down and played with a ketchup bottle. 

“Is it closer to ten or closer to a hundred?” Eddie choked out. 

Richie bit his lower lip and looked up at the ceiling. You could almost see physical wheels turning in his head. Eddie continued to gawk as at one point Richie counted on his fingers. If someone had told Eddie that an hour passed before Richie answered he would have believed them. 

“Ten,” Richie answered. 

“You’re disgusting,” 

“Wowza, Eds gets in another good one.”

Kristy returned with their food and after the two men began to eat, Richie changed the subject. 

“Why did you and Donny the Delectable Dick break up?”he asked. 

“How do you know that we broke up?” retorted Eddie. 

“Because you’re here with me and not him,” Richie quipped. 

Eddie picked at his pie as he answered, “If you must know it was because I had these Days of the Week Underwear and he was very jealous.” 

Richie made a buzzer sound. “I’m going to need a judges ruling on this. Days of the Week Underwear?” 

An abashed look crossed Eddie’s face. “Yeah, they had the days of the week on them. My ma bought them for me. I thought they were funny. We were in the middle of a movie at a theatre when he says to me, ‘You never wear Sunday. Why don’t you ever Sunday?’ He kept harping on me about it and then when I told him why he didn’t believe me.” 

“What?” 

“They don’t make Sunday.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because of God.” 

“And that’s why you broke up?” 

Eddie nodded and took a bite of pie. The two continued to eat their meal. Richie would occasionally sing along with the jukebox or make a funny comment about one of the customers. Eddie would tell him to stop shaking his leg and bumping the table. As they finished and discussed how they would split the bill, Richie stopped and stared at Eddie, his eyes scanning up and down. 

Eddie noticed the look and his hand shot up to his mouth, ‘Do I have something on my face?” 

“You know you’re very cute,” Richie said slowly, in a voice that was deeper than his regular one. 

Eddie blushed, “Oh, I’m really- I don’t think so.” 

Richie smiled. It was a smile that was meant to be charming, but ended up resembling an alligator. “Bill never mentioned what a cutie you are.” 

“Well, maybe Bill doesn’t think I’m a cutie,” Eddie said with a shrug. 

“It’s not a matter of opinion. Objectively you’re very good looking.” 

Flustered, Eddie stood up, almost tripped over his chair and slammed some cash on the table for a tip. He nearly ran out of the diner. Richie followed after him, starting to jog when he stepped into the parking lot. 

Eddie turned back to face Richie, “Look, I’m flattered, but I’m not interested. Sorry.” 

“What? Are you such a tough guy that you can’t accept another guy telling you you’re attractive without thinking it’s a come on?” Richie yelled back. 

Eddie opened the door to the passenger side of the Volkswagen Cabriolet. “It wasn’t a come on?” 

“No. It wasn’t.” Richie continued, leaning on the car roof and facing Eddie on the opposite side.“But for the sake of argument, let’s say that it was a come on. What do you want me to do? Take it back? All right, I take it back.” 

“You can’t take it back,” replied Eddie. 

“Why not?” Richie groaned.

“It’s already out there,” Eddie explained. 

“Oh Jesus, what are we supposed to do? Call the cops. It’s all ready out there,” Richie said, throwing his hands out in frustration. 

Eddie unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat. He reached over and locked the driver’s side for Richie. 

“Let’s just let it lie, okay?”proposed Eddie. 

Richie took the keys from Eddie and turned the car on. “Let it lie. Fine. Lettin’ it lie. That’s my favorite past time. I love it. Let it lie, let it lie.” He said as he backed up and started out of the parking lot. “ Do you want to spend the night in a motel and fuck?” 

Eddie’s head turned from the front to look at Richie so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash, “What?” he screeched. 

“See what I did there? I didn’t let it lie.” Richie said in a smug sing-song voice. 

“You’re an asshole,” Eddie spit out between gritted teeth. 

“-I said I would and then I didn’t.” 

“Richie..” 

“I went the other way…” 

“Richie!” 

“What?” 

Eddie took a deep breath before speaking in an overtly patient voice. “I want to just be friends.” 

Richie chuckled, “Great. Friends. That’s the best thing.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “You know, of course, that we can never be friends.”

Eddie furrowed his brow, “What do you mean?”

Richie settled back into his chair with the attitude of a Roman Emperor driving a chariot. “What I’m saying-and I’m not hitting on you in any way, shape or form, is that people of…compatible sexualities can never be friends because sex always gets in the way.” 

“That’s not true,” Eddie snorted in disbelief. “I have a number of gay friends and there is no sex involved.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Are you saying that I’ve had sex with these men without my knowledge?” 

“No, I’m saying that they all want to have sex with you,” Richie clarified. 

“They do not.” 

“They do too.” 

‘They do not.” 

“They do too.” 

“So, you want to have sex with all of your friends?” Eddie asked, in a “gotcha” “point-scored” manner. 

“That’s an accurate statement, yeah, at one point or another,” Richie revealed. “Look, take my best friend Bevie. I’ve wanted to bang her in the past. She’s gorgeous. But I’ve never said anything and that’s why our friendship has survived. Once the sex shit is out there you can’t take it back. It's always going to be there, hanging over your head. Every time you see the person all you’re going to think is, ‘Do they want to have sex with me?’ ‘Do I want to have sex with them’? Sex will get in the way and ruin the friendship. You can’t cross pollinate. There’s really no overlap. If you want to sleep with someone, the feelings are sexual and so the friendship is a lie, and there’s no reason to sleep with someone you’re not attracted to and if you do the sex is a lie. See, doomed.” He finished in a pedantic tone. 

Eddie shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll never be friends.” 

“I guess not.” Richie concurred. 

“That’s too bad. You’re the only person I know in New York.” 

 

New York City greeted them, shining like diamonds in a jewelry box against the night sky. Eddie was struck by the wish that they had arrived during the day so that he could see the sights better, but he had to admit that there was still a magic about the city at night. He pressed his face as close as he could get to the window and scanned his eyes, never stopping, and trying to make everything soak in. The thought came to Eddie that he would never arrive in New York City for the first time again. 

Richie maneuvered the Volkswagen Cabriolet through the bumper-to-bumper Manhattan traffic. At one point a driver yelled at them from the window of his cab for not going through a yellow light and Richie swore right back at him. 

It was nearly nine when they pulled up along Washington Square Park. Richie popped the trunk and then jumped out, going to grab his belongings. Eddie followed him to the trunk. 

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” Richie said as he reached into the trunk. 

“Yeah… it was…interesting.” Eddie said, trying to be polite and diplomatic. 

“Thanks for the ride.” 

Eddie waved him off, “Of course. You’re welcome.” 

Richie bounced up and down on the heels of his feet, and fumbled his boxes around in nervousness, ‘Well, uhm… I have to get going now.” 

Eddie held out his hand. Richie readjusted the boxes and wrapped his fingers around Eddie’s. Richie’s hand was surprisingly soft and not at all sweaty. Eddie looked up at Richie and it felt as though he was seeing him for the first time. Richie had brown eyes that looked warm and kind. 

“Have a nice life,” Eddie said. “Best of luck getting on ‘Saturday Night Live’ one day.” 

“You too, and best of luck becoming…” Richie faltered off at the end as he tried to remember if Eddie had mentioned any career plans. 

“A nurse,” Eddie finished for him. 

“Right. A nurse. Have a nice life…with that.” 

With that Richie turned and started down the street. Eddie returned to the car and drove away, not sparing a second thought for Richie Tozier.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is an AU based off "When Harry Met Sally" in case you couldn't tell. I'm excited, but super nervous, to share this with you. Let me know what you think by leaving a comment. I'm a pretty big slut for comments.Also, if you notice any grammatical or spelling errors don't hesitate to let me know. You can find me on tumblr at cariebishop. Stop by and leave a review or if you want or talk to me about Richie and Eddie. THANKS FOR READING!!!
> 
> P.S. The movie Richie and Eddie discuss in the car with Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid is "Casablanca".


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